A Zucchini by Any Other Name Would Taste as Bland
by Nancy Kaminski
Summary: It's that time of year when surplus vegetables are brought to work, and show up everywhere...including Nick's desk. Par of the Mortal Annoyances series.


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"A Zucchini By Any Other Name Would Taste as Bland"  
A Forever Knight Story, inspired by Real Life (tm)  
By Nancy Kaminski  
September, 1997 (zucchini harvest time)  
===================================================  
  
"What's this?" Nick held up the large green object he had found  
squatting in the middle of his desk blotter. It was obviously a  
vegetable of some sort, about fourteen inches long, with a shiny,  
waxy, dark green skin blotched here and there with yellowish patches.  
He had never seen anything like it. It looked faintly obscene, like a  
cucumber gone horribly wrong, or perhaps fed on steroids.  
  
Schanke was holding up its brother. He made a resigned face. "I guess  
it's time for zucchini bread again." He looked over at his partner,  
who was still examining his own vegetable. "It's a zucchini, Nick.  
It's that time of year again."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"It's harvest time, partner o' mine, and anyone who planted zucchini  
is reaping what they sowed. I think one zucchini plant can produce  
enough to feed Metro Toronto, so you have to give away all the  
extras." He put his own zucchini in his in basket, where it settled  
into a temporary role of slightly squishy paperweight. "Haven't you  
ever been given a zucchini before?"  
  
"No, can't say I have." Nick held the portly cellulose cylinder out to  
his equally portly partner. "Want it? It's not exactly on my diet."  
  
"No way, Jose," Schanke exclaimed. "I got a bag of them from Mrs.  
Whitman, my next door neighbor, just yesterday. I can't believe it!  
She planted six this year---the vines were running all over her back  
yard. We had fried zucchini for dinner last night, and Myra's making  
bread today with the rest of them."  
  
"If they produce so much, why plant so many?" Nick was genuinely  
curious, zucchini not having been part of the diet in medieval  
Brabant, as far as he remembered.  
  
Schanke shrugged. "All I can figure is it's an obsession. I had an  
uncle who grew them just to see how big he could get them. He weighed  
them, too---I remember going over there for dinner, and a twenty-five  
pounder was the centerpiece! Man oh man, you coulda hollowed that baby  
out and used it for a canoe!" He shook his head. "We tried to convince  
him they were only good if you picked them when they were little, but  
no, he had to grow these submarines. And then he gave them away to his  
innocent neighbors." He shook his head again at the memory.  
  
Nick looked around for another home for his gift, but belatedly  
noticed that every desk, every single one, was decorated with an  
orphaned vegetable. "Looks like it was a good year," he commented, and  
gently set his aside. Maybe Natalie would like it...  
  
"Nick, every year is a good year for zucchini. Ya can't kill 'em. They  
like drought, they like rain...they're indestructible. If only they  
tasted like something."  
  
Now Nick was truly puzzled. "If they produce too much, and they don't  
taste like anything, why grow them at all?" He looked at his zucchini  
with renewed interest. Even his sensitive nose could barely detect a  
scent from it, and it was only a foot away. He tapped it with a  
finger. It made a hollow "thunking" sound. What was the attraction?  
  
Schanke sounded resigned. "I don't know, Nick. It's one of the  
mysteries of the universe, like how Myra can get so much stuff in her  
purse. It just is."  
  
**********  
  
Later that evening, Nick and Schanke paid one of their frequent visits  
to the Coroner's Building to check up on the forensics for their  
latest case. As Nick walked into Natalie's office, she looked up,  
quirking an eyebrow at the object under his arm.  
  
"Is that a zucchini in your pocket, Nick, or are you just happy to see  
me?"  
  
Nick held out the zucchini to her and said, "I'm always glad to see  
you, Nat. Would you like this thing? Someone left it on my desk."  
  
She accepted it with resignation. "You too, huh? So what does it mean  
when a gentleman gives a lady a zucchini?"  
  
Nick smiled. "I don't think there's a 'language of vegetables,' like  
there is of flowers. It does have pretty heavy Freudian overtones,  
though, once you think about it."  
  
Nat realized she was running her finger up and down the tubular  
vegetable and hurriedly put it down. "And sometimes, a zucchini is  
just a zucchini."  
  
"Yeah." Nick looked at her seriously and asked, "Can you tell me what  
the attraction is with growing these things? Everyone seems, well,  
pretty unenthusiastic about getting them for free. And Schanke tells  
me they don't taste like anything."  
  
"That's true. You have to cook them with onions, or cheese, or  
something else to give them any flavor." She got an idea. "Hey! These  
could be an ideal way to get you on solid food---what do you say, want  
to try a zucchini-based, protein-rich dinner?" The wheels were  
spinning rapidly now. "We could start with just the zucchini and your  
protein additives, and gradually add flavorings..."  
  
"Uhhhh..." Nick was trying to think of a way to refuse this new  
approach to encouraging his mortality when Schanke breezed in, just in  
time.  
  
"Hi, Nat...so I see Nick foisted off his gift on you, huh?"  
  
"Hi, Schank.. Yes, it goes into the bag in the break room with the  
other five. Kenny in Receiving has a big backyard, and well, you know  
the rest."  
  
Schanke nodded sympathetically. "Want some of Myra's recipes? I'll ask  
her to call you. She's got some that actually make it almost edible."  
  
"Thanks, I'd like that. And I'm sure Grace and everyone else will want  
to know her zucchini secrets, too. Kenny brought in lots."  
  
"Okay. C'mon, Nick, time to go out and Protect and Serve. Let's hit  
the mean streets."  
  
Nick leaned over and kissed the top of Natalie's head. "We'll talk  
about the new diet later, okay? See you."  
  
**********  
  
The next night, Nick and the rest of the night shift were gifted yet  
again with zucchini on their collective blotters. Nick's was an  
awkward U shape instead of the straight cylinder model. "All right,  
who's bringing in these things?" he called to the room at large. He  
was answered with silence---either nobody knew, or the guilty party  
wasn't owning up.  
  
Nick surreptitiously sniffed his zucchini. Perhaps it retained the  
scent of the person who sneaked it on his desk, and he could match it  
up with one of his coworkers. He identified several odors---dirt,  
pesticide residue, and...Brut! The miscreant wore Brut aftershave (yet  
another nail in his coffin, as far as Nick was concerned). He now knew  
the culprit was male and had bad taste.  
  
He put down the vegetable, picked up a folder at random for protective  
coloration from his desk, and started wandering about the room,  
inhaling deeply but discreetly. He zigzagged from file cabinet to  
coffee urn to water cooler, managing to pass everyone in the room, but  
could detect nothing remotely like the aftershave in question. He did  
discover that Detective Gapinski favored Old Spice, and that Sergeant  
Miller brushed with a baking soda toothpaste---but no Brut.  
  
It had to be someone on afternoons. Which meant he would never catch  
the culprit, since they were gone before dark at this time of the  
year.  
  
With a sigh, he shoved his zucchini aside and started in on his  
paperwork. If he gave it to Natalie again, she would only find some  
hellish recipe to fix for him, and while he truly appreciated all her  
efforts to help him become human again, for some reason he couldn't  
identify he didn't want the magic ingredient to be a zucchini.  
  
**********  
  
Another night. Another zucchini. At this point, everyone in the squad  
room was getting fed up (figuratively and literally) with the  
unsolicited donations.  
  
If Nick's mother, oh so long ago, hadn't infused in her son the notion  
that wasting food of any kind was a sin, Nick's zucchini would have  
landed right in the wastebasket. Instead he resolved to give the  
damned thing to Brother Timothy's Mission when he drove past that  
evening---although the way things were going, even the soup kitchens  
probably had stacks of the insidious vegetables and rebellious  
indigents were refusing to eat them.  
  
Later that evening, Nick and Schanke were in the Caddy driving to  
interview a witness, the zucchini rolling back and forth in the back  
seat pending its arrival at Brother Timothy's. The police radio was  
chattering in the background while the detectives discussed their  
interrogation strategy with the reluctant witness to a knifing.  
  
Absently Nick noted that Schanke had changed his aftershave to  
something different---was that Brut? But Schanke had been on the  
receiving end of the zucchini bandit as well...He dismissed the  
thought entirely.  
  
Suddenly Schanke held up a hand. "Listen!"  
  
The radio was saying "...robbery in progress at 450 Dundas. Silent  
alarm. Proceed with caution, suspect may be armed..."  
  
Nick quickly took in their location. "Yeah, Schank, we're a block  
away. Call Dispatch and tell them we're responding."  
  
While Schanke grabbed the radio and called in their intentions, Nick  
pulled the Caddy into a convenient alley. They were in the heart of  
Chinatown, and the street was still crowded even though it was late.  
The detectives quickly checked their guns before leaping out of the  
car and running down the block, slowing only when they neared the  
store being robbed.  
  
They edged cautiously towards the door of the store, an importer of  
carved jade and gold jewelry. Peering through the glass door, Nick  
could see a thin, shabbily dressed man in his twenties holding the  
clearly terrified store owner in an armlock in front of him,  
apparently jabbing something in his back. A woman behind the counter  
was shaking in terror.  
  
Whispering, Nick told his partner, "The guy might have a gun on the  
owner. How about I go in like a regular customer, and you go around  
the alley entrance and see if you can come up behind him. I can see a  
door back there. I'll distract him and you can take him down."  
  
"'Kay." Schanke disappeared around the corner. Nick holstered his gun  
and pushed the door open. The jingling of the bells above the door  
caused the robber to swing around and face him, dragging the store  
owner with him.  
  
"Stop right there, or I'll shoot!" He jabbed again in the store  
owner's back. The robber's eyes were wild, and his voice cracked in  
panic. "I mean it! Put your hands in the air!"  
  
Nick stepped all the way into the store and raised his hands. "Don't  
shoot!" He walked slowly forward and captured the robber's eyes with  
his own. The rapid beating of his heart filled Nick's consciousness.  
"You don't want to hurt anyone...you'll let go of your hostage, put  
the weapon down, and lay down on the floor..."  
  
The robber's eyes grew vacant as Nick's whammy started to take effect.  
His grip on the store owner was slackening now, and Nick could see he  
was going to drop the weapon, whatever it was.  
  
Just then Nick saw Schanke peering through the half-drawn curtain in  
the door to the back room, his gun at the ready. He was just ten feet  
from the robber's back. Nick nodded slightly.  
  
When Schanke saw the robber loosen his grip on the hostage and drop  
something to the floor with a 'thud,' he saw his opportunity and  
leaped out to knock the robber to the floor. Keeping him covered,  
Schanke deftly slapped his cuffs on one arm and then the other. He  
looked up at Nick, who in the meantime was consoling the sobbing woman  
in fluent Chinese while her husband thanked him over and over in a  
shaking voice.  
  
"Good going, partner! How'd you convince the guy to give it up?" He  
hauled the now-limp robber to his feet and propped him up against the  
counter.  
  
"Just the powers of persuasion, Schanke. I could tell he didn't really  
want to hurt anyone." Thank whatever higher power vampires should  
thank that his whammy was very directional. The store owner hadn't  
even noticed it. "Where's the weapon?" Flashing red and blue lights  
were beginning to pull up outside the store window.  
  
Schanke looked around on the floor. "I heard it fall...it sounded  
heavy, but not like a gun." He paused, then stooped down and let out a  
peculiar, strangled sound. "Nick, you are not going to believe this.  
No sirree, not in a million years. Man oh man!" He was grinning when  
he straightened up.  
  
"What?" Nick asked, then saw what Schanke had in his outstretched  
hand.  
  
A zucchini.  
  
As one they both turned to stare at the robber. Schanke said it first.  
"You tried to hold up a store with a zucchini?!?" He could barely  
contain his laughter.  
  
The robber looked sullenly at the laughing detectives. "Do you know  
how hard it is to get a gun in this country?" he complained. "And then  
some guy gave me that thing, and well..." He added defensively, "It  
has a point. Sort of. It could have worked."  
  
Nick dug an evidence bag out of his pocket and held it out to his  
partner. "Schank, want to bag the evidence? I don't want it getting  
mixed up with the weapon I have in the back seat of the car."  
  
Schanke chuckled. "Yeah, I would hate to have it end up in one of  
Myra's casseroles and blow the case out of the water when we couldn't  
produce the weapon." The robber just looked more sullen at this  
repartee.  
  
Schanke was on a roll now. "It's like that old Monty Python sketch,  
you know, 'Today you will learn how to protect yourselves against an  
attacker armed with...a banana!'" His British accent was awful, and he  
was verging dangerously on giggling.  
  
They turned the suspect over to a pair of uniforms for transporting,  
and filled in the detective team from Robbery on the events of the  
evening. It was hard to keep a straight face when turning the weapon  
over to the latecomers, but Nick managed somehow, drawing on his vast  
experience of eight hundred years. Still, it was a close thing.  
  
At long last they continued their interrupted journey to interview  
their witness, Nick said, "You know, Schank, I'm going to look at  
those vegetables with a lot more respect from now on. I mean, can you  
think of one that's more versatile? From what I've learned in the last  
few days, I've found out you can eat it raw, fry it, bake it, grind it  
up and bake it in bread, and now I find you can use it as a weapon."  
Not to mention a possible cure for vampirism, he added silently. He  
was quiet for a moment, digesting this observation. "They're---  
useful."  
  
Schanke merely shook his head. "I won't tell anyone you said that,  
Nick. Or you'll be finding all the surplus zucchinis in the department  
showing up on your doorstep."  
  
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. But they can't be that bad..."  
  
Schanke smiled secretly to himself. He knew just where the next bag of  
zucchinis from his garden were going to land...  
  
Finis.  
  
Author's note: This little bit of silliness again comes out of  
personal experience. It is a fact that this is the time of year when  
surplus zucchini, as well as tomatoes, green peppers, and apples find  
their way onto the desks of unsuspecting coworkers. Huge bags of  
produce with the sign "Free" show up in the break room. I know---it's  
happened to me. And while I like the tomatoes, peppers, and apples, I  
really, really hate zucchini. There is no earthly reason for its  
bland, watery existence, and I cannot understand why anyone grows it.  
  
So there I was, contemplating what Nick would do if one showed up on  
his desk, when I heard a story on my National Public Radio station. It  
seems that a robber tried unsuccessfully to hold up a convenience  
store, armed only with a zucchini.  
  
And thus was a story born.  
  
Thanks and acknowledgement to TPTB, who after all, own these  
characters and let me play with them. Any mistakes you find in this  
story are my own---I'm beta-less on this one!  
  
  
  
  



End file.
